"Who would have thought that Hermione Dumbledore would be so easy to defeat?"
Trembling, Hermione looked up at Lestrange. She had suspected that he was planning something, but that he would be so bold was beyond even her imagination. He had simply waited for her after class and pulled her into the classroom opposite, not caring if anyone saw.
Except that no one had actually cared, even if anyone had noticed.
Avery stood at the closed door, arms crossed in front of his chest, legs spread wide as if just waiting for her to try and escape. Her bag with the wand was lying on the floor several metres away from her. She fell when Rufus had pushed her roughly into the room, and on that occasion, Avery shoved her bag out of reach.
Now she knelt here on the cold stone floor while Rufus Lestrange loomed over her, wand in hand, grinning wickedly at her. His dark red hair seemed to burn in the light of the torches and there was a triumphant glint in his eyes. Whatever he planned, he obviously reached his goal.
"What are you doing?" she demanded to know. Hermione was aware that she had no control over the situation, but she was unwilling to let her fear show.
Still grinning, Lestrange began to walk in a circle around her with slow steps. "We had big plans this year, you know? Tom told us about his vision and explained what we all need to do to get there."
Hermione let out a hiss. "Are you seriously trying to tell me this is about Tom?"
Without breaking his stride, Rufus ran a hand over her head. "Now, now, little witch. There's no need to be so stubborn. I'm just about to explain everything to you."
Disgusted, Hermione flinched away from his hand. The way he touched her, the way he stroked her head with his palm and then moved his fingertips to her neck, sent an icy shiver down her spine. It was an almost intimate touch that didn't fit the situation.
Or fit it far too well.
"We're just concerned followers, you see," Lestrange continued, as if he didn't even notice her disgust. "We want to help Tom get to his destination. He needs to concentrate."
"And I'm distracting him, or what are you trying to say here?" Hermione hissed. She struggled desperately to keep her fear at bay. She was alone in a room with Lestrange and Avery, and the latter had proven months ago how little he thought of women's rights.
"Whether you're distracting him, only Tom can tell," Lestrange picked up the thread as he continued to run circles around her. "No, that doesn't matter. The important thing for us is that he chooses the right people to stand next to him. People who are strong wizards, cunning, foresighted, strong in duelling, fearless. His right hand must not be weak and effeminate."
Hermione involuntarily let out a derisive snort. "And you think you're suitable for it? Because I'm too weak? Too bad at duelling?"
Rufus stopped in front of her and leant down towards her. The fingers of his left hand relentlessly gripped her chin, forcing her to tilt her head back so she could look at him. "You lost this duel against me. You're obviously inferior to me."
Jerkily, Hermione bent backwards, away from him, to escape his repulsive fingers. "As if we were duelling!" she spat at him.
"Well, I remember a duel very well. Don't you, Avery?" Lestrange enquired almost carelessly of his helper.
Avery nodded in confirmation. "I saw it with my own eyes. You beat her fair and square."
"Besides," Rufus continued, and suddenly Hermione heard the threatening undertone in his voice, "if we didn't duel, where did all the magical wounds come from?"
Before she could process what she heard, he already pointed his wand at her. "Crucio," he spoke quietly and carefully.
Frenzied pain shot through Hermione's body. With a groan, she toppled to one side while her arms and legs twitched helplessly. Every fibre of her body seemed to be on fire. The room moved away from her and she felt as if only Rufus Lestrange and the pain still existed. Lestrange, who watched her from above, grinning maliciously as she writhed and twitched on the floor.
Just as suddenly as it started, the pain stopped. Hermione lay gasping on the floor, too weak to sit up. Heart racing and breathing frantically, she looked up at Lestrange and Avery, who were now both standing beside her, looking down at her. They looked extremely pleased with themselves.
"I suppose I should feel guilty," Rufus said suddenly, without looking the least bit guilty. "It's not your fault you got caught in the middle. Tom challenged us and gave us a task. You're just collateral damage."
She shook her head weakly. "You think Tom wants this?"
Laughing, Lestrange leant down to her. "What, are you so shocked by this? Do you feel betrayed by your lover?"
"You didn't really think Tom would take care of you!" Avery now joined in. Just like Lestrange, he gave her a dirty grin. "You were never more than an appetising bedtime snack for him."
Rufus knelt down beside her and gently placed a hand on her cheek. Too weak to move away from him, Hermione let it happen. She was powerless and could only hope that they would let her live. Breathing heavily, she returned Lestrange's gaze.
"Tom was looking for the right wizard to be his right-hand man. And since Abraxas is too good to get his hands dirty, and Peter never does more than he absolutely has to anyway, it was up to me to take the initiative. I admit, it took me a while to realise that you were nothing more and nothing less than a challenge to us all." Rufus rolled his eyes briefly, as if annoyed with himself. "But now I've understood and acted on it."
"You're so completely delusional," Hermione breathed. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Did these people really not understand that Tom would never tolerate a real number two? None of them would ever come close to being his right-hand man, or whatever else they wanted to call themselves.
"It's all right, Hermione," Rufus whispered to her. The look in his eyes was suddenly so gentle that the hairs on the back of her neck stood on ends. "It's all right that you want to close your eyes to the truth. I'm sure you really loved Tom. It's okay that you feel betrayed."
His hand, which was still on her cheek, began to caress her softly. Rufus gently stroked individual strands of hair from her face. His thumb ran over her parted lips as if unintentionally. Disgust rose up inside her and gave her goose bumps. It was so obvious what Rufus was trying to do and if she could have, she would have pushed him away with all her might.
"Tom was just using you, Hermione," Lestrange told her forcefully. Avery was at the door by now and no longer seemed interested in the conversation. "He'll drop you as soon as he knows I've beaten you in the duel. And then you'll be defenceless here in the castle."
"Do you actually believe your own words?" Hermione hissed venomously. Her body ached, the stone floor was freezing cold and she still couldn't move properly. She hated that she was lying here under Lestrange while he was trying to act like a benevolent god. She wished she had learnt to control her magic wandlessly. Everything in her screamed to push him away with pure energy. Ideally, he would explode into lots of little particles. His gentle words made her nauseous and she felt dirty under his touch.
"I'm here for you, Hermione," Lestrange continued unperturbed, as if he didn't even hear her worsd. Slowly, he shifted one leg over her so that he was kneeling over her, one hand propped up next to her head, the other still stroking her cheek, her neck, her shoulders. "I respect you, more than Tom ever would. I see the strong witch that you are. But I also understand that you will always be weaker than us wizards. Tom has used you as a pawn. You are superfluous to him. He would never take care of you. Never protect you."
"But you would?" Hermione snorted in disbelief. Did Rufus really think he could wrap her around his finger with words like that? Did such rubbish work on any witch?
"I understand that witches need protection," Lestrange explained, looking her so directly in the eye that she couldn't help but recognise that he really meant what he said. He believed what he was saying. "I understand that you long for a wizard to take care of you."
His right hand left her cheek and instead travelled down between their bodies until it came to rest on her exposed thigh. A new wave of disgust rolled over Hermione. What kind of psychopath thought he could seduce a woman he tortured only minutes before? She desperately tried to wriggle out from under him, but her arms and legs still wouldn't obey her.
"Give yourself to me, Hermione," Rufus breathed to her as his hand travelled emphatically up her skirt. "I promise you, I'll always make you feel good. I'll never do violence to you like Tom did."
"You just tortured me!" Hermione huffed indignantly. "Get your filthy hands off me!"
"To demonstrate to Tom that I'm the right choice," he explained in a tone as if he were talking to a toddler. "He left me no other choice. I would never have done it without Tom. And I never will again. He's going to drop you, Hermione. Give yourself to me and I'll always be there for you!"
His fingers found the hem of her panties by now. Hermione shook her head in despair. She just wanted to get out of here. Was there nothing that could impress Lestrange? Was he that deluded? Using all her strength, she placed a hand on his chest and pushed him slightly away. "You know yourself what happened the last time Avery tried to force himself on me."
An indulgent smile appeared on Lestrange's face. "I'm afraid you don't understand us men there, Hermione. Avery tried to take something that belongs to Tom. Tom can't let another wizard break something that belongs to him. But this," he breathed into her ear, sliding his fingers under the fabric and deeper between her legs, "this is different. You're giving yourself to me willingly. Tom is no longer interested in you. There is no longer any reason for him to defend your honour. If you give yourself to me voluntarily, Tom won't care. If you give yourself to me, I can free you from him."
His lips descended on her neck and at the same time he thrust two fingers into her. Hermione gasped loudly. She didn't want this. She didn't want him on top of her, inside her. She knew Tom would kill him if he found out about this, but right now he wasn't there. She was alone, powerless, without her wand, and there was nothing she could do against Rufus Lestrange.
"Lestrange," she mouthed with difficulty, while his fingers didn't leave her. He ignored her, instead kissing a wet trail from her neck to her collarbone and never stopped thrusting his fingers into her over and over again. She moaned in pain when he added a third finger. Tears stung her eyes. "Rufus," she breathed, hoping his first name would bring a reaction.
"Yes, Hermione?" he replied and she could feel his smile against her skin.
"I'm begging you, please," she whimpered, not caring how humiliated she felt, "please don't do this. I don't want to. Please."
He straightened up a little. "It's all right, Hermione. Just relax. Everything will be fine if you relax. Don't fight it. I'll make sure you enjoy it. It'll be different than with Tom. I promise you, I won't hurt you."
"You're already hurting me!" she protested in agony, but Rufus ignored her again.
Determined, he pushed her legs apart and lay on top of her with his whole body weight. She could feel his arousal pressing against her centre through the fabric of his trousers and heard his quickened breathing. His hand finally left her, only to slowly undo the buttons of her blouse. She couldn't move, could barely breathe.
And somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice reminded her of Tom's words: And if he does succeed, if a nobody like Rufus manages to overpower you, what does that tell us